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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29891070">Dragon Thrall</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_of_Waste/pseuds/Space_of_Waste'>Space_of_Waste</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dungeons &amp; Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Dragonborn (D&amp;D), Hand Jobs, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:22:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,673</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29891070</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_of_Waste/pseuds/Space_of_Waste</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A professional houseservant insists that a dragonborn adventurer being held under house arrest in his lord's manor should at least try to maintain a level of hygiene during his stay. He takes matters into his own hands.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Male Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dragon Thrall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Phearson Tierny stood at attention in the bathing room of the Grombold Manse. It was nearing sunset, three days after the last time he had stood here waiting. A creature running almost entirely on ritual would appear soon, as he had every three days for several months now. Phearson was ready to begin immediately; he was a consummate professional. The spacious tub was filled with hot, almost scalding, water. His silk double-breasted long coat was folded neatly atop a nearby table and the sleeves of his pure white linen shirt were rolled well past the elbows. He reached and ran a hand through his thinning grey hair before returning to his attentive stance, hands held behind his back, twitching a bit as his hands hit his back. As he waited, his thoughts drifted to the series of events that led to this situation.</p><p> <i>“Forgive my frankness, sir, but I won't have you tracking dirt all about the house. I work very hard to clean and maintain it and I would appreciate it if you could keep yourself to a similar standard.”</i></p><p>  <i>Phearson's words were lost on the hulking brass dragonborn, it seemed. The behemoth was making eye contact and seemed to be listening, but gave no response to Phearson's statement. Harst stood a few feet from the staircase leading up to the room he shared with his adventuring partner and fellow prisoner. Around his feet and trailing back to the front entrance was a slight but noticeable amount of dirt and sand tracked in from his exercises. Harst just stood there, silent and unreadable as always.</i></p><p>  <i>Phearson huffed. “Language problems, I see.” He rubbed his immaculately trimmed goatee for a few seconds as he thought, then turned on his heel and began walking toward a room directly beneath the baron's office. “Follow me, if you please,” he said, trusting that Harst understood that much, at least. It seemed that he did, as the large dragonborn began to make his way along Phearson's path.</i></p><p>  <i>The manservant opened the door to the bathing room and first lit a fire in the closed brazier beneath the large wooden tub, then began pouring previously gathered buckets of water into the tub. As he did so, Harst stood with a look of confusion creeping across his face, followed by understanding just before he turned to walk away. “Where do you think you're going, Harst?” The dragonborn stopped and turned back, seeing Phearson emptying the final bucket into the tub. Harst shook his head and tried to motion that he wanted nothing to do with this, speaking a few words in Varathi that he knew the human would have no hope of understanding.</i></p><p>  <i>Phearson's tongue clicked as he shook his head. “I'm sorry, sir, but this is going to happen. I won't be following you every day with a broom and dustpan.” Harst tried to make use of his tenuous grasp on Common next, saying, “Sand clean.” To support his claim, he ran his hand along his bare arm, scouring his scaled flesh with the coarse dust. “You don't live in a desert, anymore,” Phearson replied quietly. “I know it can be difficult adapting to a new culture but you must try. The baron explained to me that I was to treat you both as guests rather than prisoners for your stay here, but if you cannot comply with even these basic standards, you will be made to stay in a cell in the basement.” Phearson approached Harst, hoping that he was getting through. “You don't want that, Miriam doesn't want that, and I certainly don't want that.”</i></p><p>  <i>Harst scowled. He understood well enough what Phearson was saying. The last two years with Miriam had taught him enough Common to converse, but the words simply didn't feel right in his mouth, so he remained silent most of the time. He finally relented, deciding that being forcefully separated from Miriam wasn't worth a fight over being washed.</i></p><p>  <i>When it became clear Harst wouldn't fight him, Phearson smiled, took his arm, and walked him over to the tub. “Remove your armor and we'll begin.”</i></p><p>Phearson's daydreaming was interrupted by the arrival of his ward. Harst entered the room as quietly as a large armored dragonborn could. He wasn't armored for long, though, already at work undoing the various buckles and straps on his scale armor. Phearson stepped forward to assist him, having become intimately familiar with the doffing process. Working together, the armor sloughed off quickly, exposing the dull golden hide beneath. Harst was not hurried; rarely did he show any excitement or enthusiasm. Phearson, however, knew that Harst was looking forward to his bath. Harst had been looking forward to these moments ever since the third time the butler had done this for him.</p><p>In his more honest moments, Phearson could admit to himself that he looked forward to them as well.</p><p>  <i>Harst relaxed in the hot bath. Three times he had done this, three days separating each bath, but only now did he allow himself to let go of his anxiety and enjoy the moment. Phearson was hovering around him, scrubbing his hide roughly with a long brush covered in soap, suds gliding along his flesh with every stroke. Phearson, consummate professional, had perfected the sequence of movements that would most efficiently wash the dragonborn. He didn't want to hold Harst here forever, knowing that he didn't enjoy this as much as others might.</i></p><p>  <i>Harst was enjoying it, however, despite himself. Growing up in the harsh desert, he had always been taught that a moment of relaxation could only lead to one's death. It was a hard-learned lesson, and one that even now he could not forget. Nevertheless, as Phearson finished scrubbing and began pouring water down to rinse his back, he willfully forced himself to let go of his worries, his mind having no concept of the contradiction of such an action. He leaned back when the butler was done, allowing the tub to take some of the weight off of his back as he splayed out.</i></p><p>  <i>“Oh my,” Harst heard the manservant mutter, and he opened his eyes, not realizing that he had closed them in his tranquil state. Looking up, he saw Phearson's eyes trying not to linger at something just beneath the surface of the water. Harst followed his gaze and realized that his member had become erect in the warmth of the water and the attention he was receiving. He laid back and closed his eyes again. The dragonborn of the Varath desert covered themselves in order to protect themselves from the dangers of the environment, not out of any need to hide themselves from each other. He noticed that people in these softer green lands covered themselves as well but couldn't really comprehend why, having no real sense of modesty.</i></p><p>  <i>Phearson turned away, not knowing how to respond to this situation. He had seen it before, of course. Twice already he had bathed the dragonborn, and as a lifelong manservant he had seen plenty of genitalia. Never had he been so taken with the apparent arousal of one of his wards. It happened, of course. He was a consummate professional, after all. But for some reason, this time was different. Harst had not had such a reaction the previous times he was bathed, and it indicated to Phearson that he was finally letting himself feel enjoyment from his baths. Inside he was overjoyed, but he kept a stern countenance on his face, not wishing to betray his competent appearance. He glanced down at the erection again, unsure of how to best proceed, then looked up at Harst's face to see his eyes were closed. He took the opportunity to take a longer glimpse at the intriguing organ as he pondered what to do.</i></p><p>  <i>It was large. Certainly larger than any Phearson had ever seen or even imagined, long enough that it nearly peeked through the surface of the bathwater. Its mere size caused Phearson's breath to hitch as his mind wandered to places he had not thought about in many years. He shook the imagery from his mind and focused on the now. It appeared fleshy, not the same protectively rough hide that coated the rest of Harst's body, which made sense. After all, it had to grow, didn't it?</i></p><p>  <i>Phearson found himself studying the shaft longer than he meant to, and noticed that Harst had opened his eyes again, and was looking directly at him. He made no move or sound to indicate that he was upset by this, instead laying still against the back of the tub. Phearson had a quick thought, nearly throwing it aside, but decided to take a chance and act upon it. He took the chunk of soap he had used to prepare the long brush and rubbed it between his hands, preparing to continue “washing” Harst. When he felt he was ready, Phearson knelt at the side of the tub and slowly reached in, placing his hands respectively on Harst's stomach and thigh. He made a brief attempt to play at cleaning Harst's skin, but his hands quickly wandered closer and closer to the erect cock, finally gracing his fingers along its length.</i></p><p>  <i>Harst sucked a breath in at this, but made no movement to put a stop to it. His head started to roll backward as he took in the sensations that he was feeling, continuing to let the pleasant feelings of his bath wash over him. Here was something he had never experienced in all his years in the lethal desert, something that he likely never would have been able to enjoy.</i></p><p>  <i>Phearson worked steadily, as fluid as the water in which his hands were submerged. Deep, massaging strokes coursed up and down Harst's erection, spreading the soap around to serve as lubrication. His hands were practiced and forthright, shifting in their positions at intervals to keep from becoming trite. His right hand began to rotate a bit around the thick shaft, making sure that every bit of flesh was given attention as he stroked.</i></p><p>  <i>The sensation was quickly becoming much more than Harst was ready to bear. His breathing was beginning to deepen and quicken, his chest making light waves as it puffed in and out. Harst's hips were just starting to move on their own, matching Phearson's slow and steady strokes. His body was trying to hurry, rushing toward an end that he didn't understand, but Harst's stoicism was useful now in keeping himself in check. He focused and regained his composure, settling down and laying back, letting Phearson perform however he wished. He at least had that much respect for the old human, trusting that he knew what he was doing and allowing Phearson to do with his body as he pleased.</i></p><p>  <i>For his part, Phearson was not trying to make this last longer than necessary. He saw this as another task to be completed with professionalism and all due speed. The problem was that Harst's draconic majesty was simply too large to completely encompass and it was taking Phearson more time than he thought he would need to make sure that it was paid proper treatment. He was not complaining, though, not by any stretch. It had been a long time since he had been allowed to service such a beautiful specimen, and in a way he was glad that it was taking longer than anticipated.</i></p><p>  <i>As his strokes lengthened and tried to coat the entire shaft in one pass, Phearson allowed himself a fleeting moment to imagine himself bending over before Harst, stretched and prepared to submit himself fully to his powerful presence, but he knew it could never be. The erection before him was beyond impressive; it was clearly meant for a much more expansive recipient than Phearson could provide. Conversely, the manservant could not imagine placing himself behind Harst. It simply didn't seem appropriate. This is all they could ever be, a servant and his ward, and although Phearson felt a momentary pang of regret, he understood that there was nothing to be done about it.</i></p><p>  <i>Instead he redoubled his efforts, speeding his hands up and focusing on the head, providing plenty of stimulation at the most sensitive spot. Harst, for all his effort at maintaining his composure, was becoming undone by Phearson's constant care. His hips remained unmoved for now but his breathing was again building in tempo and volume, a rising crescendo of pleasure that would all too soon crest in a blissful climax. His breathing became growling, his predatory status starting to get the better of him as his primal nature crept forth. These new sounds only pressed Phearson onward as he allowed some of Harst's newfound lust to affect him, sharing in the feelings now radiating from the dragonborn. The language barrier was meaningless now; they shared their own language, words shaped in gasps and moans, sentences built of sheer desire.</i></p><p>  <i>Harst's growls grew out of his control, his hips rising steadily, the head of his monstrous member just poking through the surface of the water. Phearson returned to the slow, deep massages that he began with, knowing that splashing water about with his frantic ministrations would only detract from the majesty that he was about to behold. His steady hands coaxed out his prize, squeezing and milking the stiff but flexible flesh. Harst's breathing was unrestrained, shallow and rapid as he approached climax. Phearson took a long look at the dragonborn's face so he could take in what he had done to the stoic young man. He had performed this duty perfectly; he was a consummate professional. His own pleasure was starting to peak, and he looked forward to thinking about this moment later tonight when he was alone.</i></p><p>  <i>Phearson looked back down at the cock he was handling, not wanting to miss what was about to happen. Sure enough, Harst's hips rocked solidly, jerking as he reached his first orgasm. A fountain of fluid shot forth, the dragonborn's semen shooting straight up as powerfully as anyone could expect from the massive member. Phearson milked him through every second of his climax, mouth open as he allowed himself to be impressed by the beauty of it all. It took five shots in all before Harst settled himself, but Phearson continue to squeeze and stroke as the last drops slowly poured forth from the head. At some point, this had become something more than a simple clinical task. Phearson was feeling true passion as he finished stroking Harst's rigid cock, pressing his thumb against the beads of come that were resting at the slit of the penis, rubbing them about languidly.</i></p><p>  <i>As Phearson's hands slowed and finally left his erection, Harst once again rested against the edge of the tub, allowing himself to fall into a level of relaxation he had never known before. Just days ago, it would have been inconceivable for Harst to fall asleep so quickly in such a compromising position, but his energy had been completely drained along with his come. He began to doze before Phearson, his head resting against his chest as his arms spread along the edge of the tub.</i></p><p>  <i>Phearson rubbed his hands together beneath the water, washing the last dregs of soap and seed from his skin before retreating from the tub and toweling his hands dry. All the while his mind raced. Never, never had he been so bold as to even think to attempt such actions with any person he had ever served, and as a lifelong manservant he had known many wards. Still, he let his worries drift away as he looked back at Harst dozing in his warm bath. There was every indication that he had enjoyed it, and would likely come to expect the same treatment during future baths.</i></p><p>  <i>Phearson smiled.</i></p><p>After months of this, the signs of Harst's approaching climax were well known to Phearson now. He released the rigid flesh that he had been stroking and stood, motioning for Harst to stand in the tub as well. Harst did so, confused at this new development in their itinerary, but trusting that the manservant knew what he was doing. As Harst stood, the still-hot water draining along his hide, Phearson began removing his shirt, slowly undoing each button as he walked over to where his jacket was folded. He carefully removed and folded his shirt, laying it atop the jacket, then walked back over to the tub, now completely exposed from the waist up. His skin was not as healthy as it used to be, wrinkled in places and strange age spots having appeared randomly, but he took heart in the knowledge that of all the people he could have fallen for in this secluded town, Harst was the one least likely to care at all about his physical appearance.</p><p>As he returned to the side of the tub, Harst towering before him, Phearson slowly lowered himself to his knees. Harst was enormous in more ways than one; even though he was not kneeling completely, upper legs still perpendicular to the tiled floor, Phearson's face did not quite reach the point on Harst's hips from where his erection protruded. That was fine, though. Phearson had no illusions that he was going to need to meet that point exactly. Reaching up, he began to stroke again, staring up at Harst's face and enjoying the little details that told him that the dragonborn was not as stoic as he appeared. The eyes that were just barely squinting, flaring nostrils, teeth starting to bare as the sensations compounded and grew within him. Harst's hips began to thrust, easier now that he wasn't fighting gravity to do so, allowing Phearson to hold his hands still as the impressive cock stroked itself in his grasp.</p><p>Phearson had other plans, however. He had been looking forward to this for some time and wasn't going to let Harst fight him. He squeezed tighter, not enough to hurt but enough to signal that he was in control here. When Harst began to settle, Phearson slowly opened his mouth and probed forward with his tongue. He graced the very tip of Harst's head with his tongue, licking gently into the slit at its tip. Harst released a breathy growl at this feeling, eyes glazing over as he submitted to this new feeling. Phearson explored around and encircled the bulbous head with his swirling tongue before latching his mouth across the tip. He knew there was no chance that he would offer true fellatio, being unable to dislocate his own jaw, but he resolved to suck as well as he could while both hands stroked the massive beast before him.</p><p>Harst looked down at the grey-haired man servicing him. Without thought, he reached forward with one clawed hand, resting it gently upon his head. There was no force to the action but the sheer weight of his arm caused Phearson no small amount of surprise as the pressure drove him forward. His eyes shot up in surprise, and as Harst matched his gaze, they both experienced something beyond simple physical stimulation. Feelings within Harst shot forth as his climax surprised him, and Phearson couldn't suppress a moan as he felt the head of the member begin to throb against his tongue. His hands sped up; through them he felt the flesh in his grasp begin to pulse and jerk.</p><p>Phearson heard an animalistic groan as he felt the first shot of semen rocket against the back of his throat. He had removed his shirt as a precaution, but he did not intend for there to be any mess yet. He swallowed around the erection, taking care not to allow his jaw to close enough for his teeth to become an issue, and just as he finished the first shot he felt the next one, this one even more forceful as his hands continued their wringing motion along the shaft. He worked expertly, milking each burst of fluid and swallowing as it came. He allowed the flowing semen to ignite his own passion, using his tongue to stroke along the head as more of Harst's seed poured into his mouth. Eventually the dragonborn's climax settled into denouement, and Phearson was no longer pressed to consume the essence left in his mouth. As he slowly pulled back from Harst's member, he let his tongue twirl around and play with the come still in his mouth before he finally swallowed it.</p><p>Harst was breathing heavily as he looked down at the experienced manservant. He had never known what Phearson was planning, but as usual he found himself pleasantly surprised. His hand fell from the top of Phearson's head and stroked his temple, unsure of what he was doing but feeling that it was an appropriate gesture. Phearson looked up at him and pulled a few more strokes along his cock before he rose, holding up a finger and saying, “Wait here.”</p><p>Once more he walked over to where his other clothes were folded, and quickly and efficiently removed his belt and trousers, pulling the remainder of his clothing off and folding it neatly before placing it with the rest. His own breath was starting to quicken as he imagined what was to come. He had been planning this for months, cleaning and preparing himself, and he believed that tonight he would finally be ready. He reached behind himself and began tugging at a smoothly polished piece of wood that had been hidden beneath his clothes. As Harst looked on at the puzzling old man, Phearson gently pulled at what appeared to be a small wooden panel lodged between his buttocks. He pulled very slowly, wincing but continuing as he did so, and eventually Harst saw a rather large bulb of polished wood appear from within the man's rear.</p><p>Harst did not understand yet what was happening, but Phearson knew he wouldn't need any instruction for what was about to happen. He opened a cabinet beneath his clothing and retrieved a bottle that he had placed there before the dragonborn had arrived. As he walked toward Harst, still standing in the warm water, he tipped the bottle and began pouring a yellow, viscous fluid into his hand. He filled his cupped hand before setting the bottle down and beginning to stroke Harst's cock again. It had lost some of its rigidity, but that worked well for Phearson at this moment. He wanted to try to begin before Harst was back at his full strength and size. To that end, he finished applying a liberal amount of the oil to Harst's member and began applying even more to his own stretched rear. He turned around and pulled a stool to himself, leaning forward and settling upon it as he looked back at the dragonborn. He said only, “Please, be gentle,” before turning back and awaiting what came next.</p><p>Harst's cock twitched at the sight before him, unsure if Phearson had meant to line his hole so clearly with his own thick member, but the message was clear. Harst took the bottle, sure that it was going to be needed again, and in his other hand gripped his own shaft as he leaned forward. Stepping forward out of the tub and crouching a bit to match the old man's height, he guided his impressive cock into Phearson, slowly pressing and allowing the oil to do its job. He heard Phearson's breath jump as Harst's tip met his entrance, and kept applying pressure. He poured another few beads of oil at their connection before setting the bottle down and gripping Phearson's hips with both hands. He steadily pulled the manservant as he himself pushed forward, and just as Phearson began to think that perhaps this wasn't meant to be, he felt Harst's head penetrate his entrance.</p><p>He felt his body light up at the extreme sensation. He was familiar with the feelings of a more moderate cock within him, but never had he given the least bit of thought to trying one so enormous. Thankfully the oil seemed to be doing its job as he didn't quite feel any pain, and Harst was not yet pushing forcefully. He looked back at the dragonborn, repeating his quiet request for his continued caution, before looking forward and focusing on taking in the powerful feeling of Harst's incredible erection.</p><p>Harst pushed forward ever so slowly, understanding that the old human before him should not have been able to withstand him naturally. As he kept the pressure steady, he began to think about how long this must have taken, how long the butler had been preparing himself to do this. The next logical step was wondering how much Phearson must have wanted this, or how much he was willing to put up with just to satisfy Harst. In all his years, the dragonborn had never had cause to appreciate anyone in his life especially, other than Miriam. But he wasn't doing this with Miriam. Here he was with a human he knew nothing about. No, that wasn't right. What Harst did know was what drew them together. He knew that Phearson existed to serve, and gave deeply of himself that others might know comfort. And in that moment, Harst began to wonder if this wasn't what it felt like to be loved.</p><p>Phearson's mind was currently far too busy to think about such things, instead dealing with the outrageous pressure of a gigantic dragonborn cock slowly stretching his hole open. He was grateful that Harst was not as primal as he appeared to be at first glance. After all their time spent together, Phearson believed that Harst was, in fact, far wiser than many people he had ever met before, though this impression was difficult to reach when the dragonborn often refused to open up even when he could speak his mind. His silence spoke for him, Phearson had begun to understand. Harst was a mountain whose very presence conveyed power; empty-winded threats and brags were unnecessary. Phearson almost chuckled, thinking to himself that it nearly felt as though he was trying to seat himself atop a mountain. He was holding up well, however. His months-long preparation had paid off, and he was going to enjoy Harst in a way he had never really thought possible.</p><p>Harst was past halfway now, and he was ready to try something else. Instead of continuing to push forward, he pulled back, the oil-slicked hole still clinging to his girth as he did so. Phearson almost whined at the new sensation, but offered no complaint. Holding tightly onto the old man's hips, Harst pushed again, pulling back when he felt he should, and began to repeat these slow rocking motions. He felt the oil begin to warm from the friction as the soft flesh of Phearson's insides ground against his cock. His humping steadily grew in tempo, and he tried to adjust his stance so that he could enter Phearson just a bit more with each thrust.</p><p>Phearson's mind was blanking. He felt something that he couldn't describe, something between pressure and pain. He was nearing his limit, he could tell, but he had spent the last few months testing and surpassing that limit just for this. He knew he was ready. He was going to accept Harst within him completely. He allowed himself to go almost limp over the stool, knowing that any attempts to “try” in this case would only make things more difficult. Instead he submitted completely to the hulking dragonborn behind him. He began to think things that he wouldn't say, that Harst couldn't understand, but that absolutely kindled the fire growing within himself. “I'll be a piece of meat for you,” he thought. “I'll be an object purely for you and your pleasure. Take me, oh gods, take me!”</p><p>Harst was not surprised to hear the sounds beginning to emanate from Phearson, and did not slow when they rose in volume. His thrusts were growing in speed, and the butler's moans were getting louder, rising in volume every time Harst pushed more of his impressive cock into him. At some point, without realizing it, Harst had surpassed the thickest part of his shaft. When he looked down and learned this, he took a deep breath as he understood what he had to do now. He didn't know if Phearson would be ready for it, but the old man had trusted him with this. Harst decided to trust himself.</p><p>Steeling himself, Harst pushed forward as deeply as he could. Oil seeped from the joined flesh and splattered as Harst's hips finally kissed Phearson's buttocks. The butler was not ready for this mentally, but thankfully his body was prepared to take it. He felt his own insides finish their shifting around the intrusion, molding himself to Harst's wonderful cock. His mouth released a whining moan without his permission, pushed out by the force of Harst's attention. Phearson was satisfied in a way that he had never known possible, stretched beyond all sane allowances. He felt something pouring forth from his own member, and looking down underneath the stool he saw that his cock was beginning to slowly release its come, pushed forth seemingly because there was no more room for it inside of him. As it flowed out, he let himself become lost in the pleasure, focusing on the feeling of Harst sliding along his insides.</p><p>Harst resumed his thrusting, pulling out and pushing in with steady regularity. He watched as Phearson's oiled hole moved along with him, having been stretched well beyond the point that it should have been and refusing to budge any further. Once again Harst was impressed with the lengths the manservant was willing to go to, and rewarded him with more elongated strokes, ensuring that the bulge of his shaft was entering and exiting at every opportunity. Phearson almost shouted his appreciation, measuring his volume only because he knew they were not alone in the manse. The thoughts returned, and although he would have loved to tell Harst exactly how he felt, he knew that it was unnecessary. “Don't slow down, please don't slow down.” He couldn't get enough of the feeling of flesh rubbing along flesh as Harst's girth pressed right against the bulb inside of him, feeding into his pleasure. “I've never felt like this before, and I never will again. So please, make this last forever. Allow me to sink into this moment and drown in it.”</p><p>Though Harst had no idea what Phearson was thinking, it was clear to him that the butler was enjoying this, and he would have been a liar if he claimed that he wasn't also in bliss. The tight embrace of Phearson's hole around his throbbing cock was driving him onward, the all-encompassing sensation and heat rapidly becoming too much to handle. The long strokes of his thrusts were passing more and more quickly, and the forceful collisions of their hips were starting to surpass the volume of Phearson's moans. As Harst pounded onward, he began to realize that he wasn't going to last much longer. He was taking care not to pierce the poor man's flesh with his claws as his grip tightened, but at some point his grip was moving Phearson forward and back as much as he himself was thrusting, keeping an opposite rhythm to maximize the force of each thrust.</p><p>“Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, I can't... I can't stop...” thought Phearson, feeling the come continue to pour from his own cock as Harst thoroughly ruined him. Despite the constant stimulation, he felt a wave of pleasure beginning to build within him, ready to crash at any moment, though he didn't know for what it was waiting. He learned quickly, though, as Harst slammed into him for the last time. Loosing a loud groan, bordering on a roar, Harst entered him completely, pressing hips against rear as the dragonborn tried desperately to reach impossibly further within him. Phearson felt the unmistakable sensation of hot come spreading throughout his innards, and the physical symbol of Harst's passion set him off in turn. His slowly leaking cock began shooting its own load, and as he whined under the weight of his extreme pleasure, he watched as more come than he had ever seen himself unleash splatter across the floor beneath him. He refused to back down from the climax, and pushed back to feel just a little more friction of Harst's girth within him as he came.</p><p>Harst's legs almost gave out from a mixture of exhaustion and bliss. He backed away slowly, but heard Phearson whisper, “No,” as the old man backed up as well. “I'm not... I'm not ready to be empty...” Harst couldn't catch his breath, completely spent as he was, but understood what Phearson wished for. Carefully, he reached down and lifted the man, easily carrying his weight as he backed up to the tub. Stepping into it slowly, he eased back down into the still-warm water, his enormous cock never leaving Phearson as he lowered himself to sit in the tub. Phearson leaned back as Harst did the same, both of them resting in the warm water and recovering from their insane tryst.</p><p>As they both began to bring their breath under control, Phearson could physically feel  Harst's member slowly shrinking within him. It was a unique sensation, one that he found he didn't dislike. Instead of resting them along the edge of the tub, Harst wrapped his arms lazily around Phearson's stomach, resting his hands together almost where the head of his own still-encompassed cock was resting. Phearson knew he was going to be so sore tomorrow, perhaps for days to come, but one thought kept him content in the flickering candle light. Perhaps, just perhaps, he might be ready to go again in three days?</p><p>Of course he would. After all, he was a consummate professional.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've written a few smutfics set in a D&amp;D campaign I've been running for a while and decided I should post some here and see what comes of it. This is the first. Names have all been changed to avoid the possibility of my players learning what a disgusting pervert I am. Feedback very much appreciated.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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